


Bilingual

by MechBull



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-21
Updated: 2016-05-21
Packaged: 2018-06-09 20:04:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6921127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MechBull/pseuds/MechBull
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>FitzSimmons go snorkeling, <a href="http://mech-bull.tumblr.com/post/144673969053/agentverbivore-fuckyeahmelancholy">Urban Dictionary style.</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	Bilingual

Fitz heard the bathroom door open and close, and he knew he should probably be more attentive to Jemma as she returned to the main room, but he was too damn tired to lift his head or even open his eyes. He grunted instead. Jemma laughed softly in response; he felt the bed dip as she climbed onto it next to him. Soon enough she was curled along his side, and Fitz found the last little bit of strength in him to wrap his arm around her.

Involuntarily, his eyebrows lifted as he felt the bare skin of her shoulder and the lace and silk on her back where her shirt should have been. He stroked his thumb back and forth to acknowledge the change, even if he felt it was a bit ambitious of her. Jemma placed her hand over his other one, trapping it to his chest.

“Did you text Coulson?”

“Mmm.”

“And Daisy?”

“Mmm.”

“Are you hungry?”

“Mm-mm.”

“Scintillating conversation.”

Fitz breathed out a laugh. “What do you want from me, Jemma? You didn’t warn me it was a 20 hour flight. And you made me carry all the luggage.”

“Oh yes.” Jemma’s tone was far too sly. She started tracing light circles over the back of his hand, and Fitz lifted his index finger, pressing the knuckle against her palm. “ _All_ the luggage.”

Fitz suspected his grin was the picture-in-the-dictionary example of "the cat that swallowed the canary." Jemma had offered to pack for them both while Fitz met with Coulson and Radcliffe. He had barely enough time to grab his wallet and change his shirt when they were finished. She was already waiting in the car and broke more than a couple rules of the road getting them to the airport in time. So when Fitz opened the boot and saw only the one _very small_ carry-on bag, he had been somewhat confused. 

“How long are we staying?” he had asked.

“About a week.”

“And…this is all you packed?”

Jemma had shrugged then, walking away from the car. “Swimsuits. A change of clothes for dinner _somewhere nice_. A few other bits and pieces. We can get sunscreen and...other pharmacy essentials there. What else do we need?”

Fitz had been speechless all the way to the ticket counter. And he suspected that whatever she was wearing now was one of those bits and pieces. He opened his eyes, turning his head to see. If anything, his grin just got wider. 

“You look – ” he cleared his throat. “Very nice.”

“This old thing?” 

Fitz couldn’t resist – he leaned closer and captured her lips in a lazy kiss. When they broke apart, Jemma sighed, resettled herself against his side, and moved her hand lower to play with the shirt button just below where his hand still rested. 

“So what do you want to do today?”

“Ah…?”

The question was a bit confusing and almost felt like a trap. Honestly, the only two things Fitz wanted to do were figure out how to get the frilly contraption off her and sleep for about 15 hours, and not necessarily in that order. 

“What did you want to do?” he asked, stalling.

“We could…go for a walk along the beach. Hold hands.”

“Romantic,” he teased.

“Or…out for dinner, I suppose.”

“Eh, not today.”

“Really, all I want to do…” Jemma murmured rather seductively, her hand starting to move even farther down until she hooked the button of his trousers. Her pinky teased lower, tracing over the seam of his zip and scratching at the hardening bulge of his cock. “…is get you out of these clothes and…”

When she didn’t continue, Fitz breathed out an “And?”

“Go snorkeling.”

Fitz burst into laughter. Snorkeling. God, he loved her. He opened his eyes again, turning to her with a wide smile.

“I am really too tired to go snorkeling right now. I’d drown.”

Jemma shook her head, moved her hand back up to his chest and used it for support as she pushed up. His eyebrows shot high on his forehead as she climbed to her knees and then straddled him, the fabric of her whatchamacallit-dress-thing stretching over and riding up her thighs. She abandoned her strategy of teasing at his buttons, flicking several open until she could reach through his shirt and slide her palms over his chest. 

“Fitz, I think there might be some miscommunication here about what kind of snorkeling I mean.”

“There’s – there’s more than one kind?” Fitz asked, feeling overwhelmed as Jemma scooted backwards, turning her attention lower. 

He lifted his head to watch her, holding his arms out to the side in a strangely fitting gesture of surrender. Before he even could register her movements, she had unfastened and pushed his clothes down, allowing his cock to jut out freely. She looked down at it and licked her lips. Fitz dropped his head back onto the pillow with a tortured exhalation. 

“Oh, yes. I could tell you or I could show you.”

“Show me. Definitely show me,” he said in a way that he was unfortunately pretty sure could be called begging. He looked at her again, hoping his expression wasn’t too desperate.

“Thought you might say that,” she replied before slowly dragging her tongue along her palm and fingers, never dropping eye contact.

“Oh God,” Fitz whimpered. 

He couldn’t say much more after that, though, because Jemma proceeded to thoroughly demonstrate the concept. When she pounced, moving back quickly and dropping down to make contact with her mouth, Fitz bucked once in surprised pleasure, and she shifted to hold him down with her weight. The signals in his brain felt like they were misfiring as he tried to experience all the different sensations at once – her tongue pressing against his sack, the feeling of the lace encasing her breast scratching his inner thigh as she held his leg close with one arm, her other hand wrapped tight around his shaft and moving up and down enthusiastically, her warm wet mouth now sucking his balls. 

His breath seemed loud and ragged in the room, joined only by the slurping sounds below and the faint crashing of the surf outside the window. Fitz reached down, burying his hands in her hair, and falling impossibly more in love when she backed away to look up at him and smirked, raising one teasing eyebrow. And then she redoubled her efforts, briefly cupping the head of his cock to coat her palm in the leaking fluid before she began to stroke him even faster. He felt his balls lifting as his body neared its threshold, and nearly blacked out as she licked her way up the middle to the base of his cock.

“Jesus, Jemma,” he shouted, accidentally pulling her hair in a too-late warning.

His orgasm was long and powerful, but she never stopped pleasuring him through it. Finally, Fitz settled, lifting his hands to cover his face as he breathed in shuddering gasps.

She was going to be the death of him. And of all the ways that had almost happened, all the ways he was willing to lose his life because of her, he really hadn’t expected it to be because she was so fantastic in bed. Fitz laughed at how…dreamlike it all seemed. 

Jemma slithered up his body, bringing him back to reality. He dropped his hands to the side, opening his eyes to watch her. Once she was close enough, she kissed him, and Fitz groaned deep in his chest. 

She pulled away just far enough to whisper against his lips, “Romantic enough for ya?”

Fitz snapped his eyes open again to see the humor and challenge in her own. And without waiting even a single beat, he flipped her over, more than willing to engage in this particular competition. He moved down her body quickly, kissing her through the fabric of her lingerie and once, around her navel, biting and pulling at it with a playful growl. His hands slid farther down, hooking around the hem and pushing it up until she was fully revealed to him. 

“Jemma?”

“Hmm?”

“I thought of something I’d like to do here.”

“What?” she asked, giggling.

“I wonder if there are any places you can go diving for clams. Find a pearl.”

Jemma’s laughter quickly turned into a squeal and then a moan.

**

Fitz didn’t remember the last time he woke up to sunlight rather than an alarm clock. He grinned, wrapped his arms around Jemma tighter and nestled back into his pillow. His goal of luxuriating in bed did not last long, however, as she turned to face him and started poking a finger to his chest. Fitz cracked one eye open to see her eager smile.

“Get up, get up, get up.”

“What?”

“Time to go snorkeling!”

Fitz was immediately and definitely _up_. 

“Again?!”

Jemma rolled her eyes. “Down, Pavlov. Oxford Dictionary, not Urban,” she clarified, pushing away from him and rolling off the bed. “There are over a thousand species of fish to see and we only have a week to do it.”

Fitz absolutely did not whine because he was a grown man, but he _may_ have made a sound of disappointed objection at that. He reached out and grabbed hold of her hand, tugging her closer to the bed.

“Would you settle for seeing half of them and spending the rest of the time…expanding our vocabulary?”

**Author's Note:**

> I sincerely believe that adorable little nerd really thinks snorkeling is super romantic. And that she packed nothing for herself but lingerie, a bikini, and a LBD for dinner.


End file.
